Scenes in a Closet
by Andie Potter
Summary: A collection of drabbles centering around the MWPPera, accompanied by a quote or lyric.
1. Damn Regrets

Scenes in a Closet 

Prologue

Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.-David Grayson

"You don't say." The tension in the small room was heated, almost tangible.

"You know what Evans? I am bloody sick of this. I am bloody sick of being played with like this. I am bloody sick of hating you one minute, wanting you one minute, and back to hating you. You dance around me in a circle, never giving me a chance, never opening your eyes to see that I'm not the prat 14-year old," he ranted, kicking over a bucket in the process. Lily stared at him, unable to comprehend what he just said. Play games around him? She had never done that. She had always been forthright and honest with her regard towards him. For the last three years, she had put up with his inquires of affection, his irritating but creative ways to ask her out.

And she had let him know every single time where she stood. It was always going to be no. Sometimes she had wanted to scream so loud, loud enough to let the whole castle, the whole country know that she did not want to date James Potter. That the answer was always going to be no.

He was still ranting. Going on about how much he had changed but she refused to see. How he couldn't take much more; he was snapping (that much was clear). Lily stood there, gazing up at him, wondering how it had turned to this. Wondered how a trip to the library ended up here, in a broom closet, with a boy on the brink of an emotional breakdown.

"Are you listening to me? Or are you going to stare at that bucket forever?" he spat, bringing Lily's mind back to awareness.

"Look Potter, I'm sorry if I've ever cost you pain. Believe me when I say it was unintentional. But you and I could never work out. We're too different. One moment you're here, then the next your there. And that's not me. I'm always here," she told him, gesturing with her hands.

"Who the hell cares? Why can't you give me a chance? Just one bloody date? Why?" he snapped in frustration. The illumination from the wand began emitting sparks.

"Because..." she said weakly, not knowing the answer.

"Because what?"

_Because I don't want to get hurt._

"Because...bloody heavens, I don't know. All I know is that it would never work. It's been clear since day one and it's still clear. So why don't you just leave me the hell alone and go back to playing with your friends, okay? Just stay away from me and leave me out of your life," she replied, her voice cackling with intensity. James stared at her for an eternity, his eyes boring into hers intensely.

Finally, he whispered _nox_. He reached for the door and in a blinding flash of light, left her in the darkness. She stared in the darkness for a millisecond, and then let out a sob, collapsing against the wall.


	2. Blame

Blame 

"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are..." George Bernard Shaw

He would always blame it on James Potter.

He had blamed it on him as he watched her whip back into the portrait, hair ablaze behind her, the knot in his stomach untwisting and becoming instead a pit of loneliness that would continually be with him until that lethal bite.

He had blamed it on him as he watched them sneak a kiss behind the statue of Uric the Oddball, feeling his unraveling world come crumbling down, along with any bit of forgiveness that might have remained.

He had blamed it on him as he sat on guard with Dolohov and Travers, listening to them swap jeers about Potter and his Mudblood bride, knowing that any hope of survival she might have had had disappeared as a sparkling ring was slid onto her finger.

He had blamed it on him as he sat numbly at his desk, reading the headline over and over again, realizing that the boy was destined to the same fate as his mother and that he would again become entwined with it.

He had blamed it on him as he lay on the dirt, feeling his memories pour out, feeling that perhaps it had not been worth it as he gazed into her eyes peering out of his face.

A/N: Don'tlike this one very much. I've never written anything from Snape's point-of-view before because I never liked him enough to. I still don't but since D.H. this concept has been in my head. Please reveiew, whether you like it or not because even if you have only negative things to say, I still take it into consideration for my next piece.


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